The Insanity
by agent-of-fear
Summary: Scarecrow watches, and he wants. CRANE/SCARECROW/OC FICLET. MUST BE READING 'INSANITY OF THE SANE'.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a short one-shot that is tied with my story _Insanity of the Sane. _Seeing as my readers have been so lovely, I thought I'd give them a little view into the mind of Jonathon Crane, seeing as _Insanity of the Sane _is, of course, from Emma's point of view. Here's to my readers for being so lovely! This will be released at the same time as Part 2 of Chapter 9.**

**This is going to be Crane/Scarecrow's point of view of the time in which Emma is unconscious after Chapter 9: Part 1.**

**I present to you _The Insanity._**

* * *

Something in him twitches with anger when the words, 'you _bastard_,' come falling from her mouth. Of course, the dramatic and offensive effect that he supposes she had been hoping for was ruined by the wide yawn that she fought against. He knew, of course, that no matter how much she fought, the drug would fight harder.

He is himself now, and to others there would be no difference. One moment Scarecrow was kneeling beside the unconscious girl called Emma, then suddenly it was Jonathon. Just like that. No physical changes, no change of voice (apart from when he wore the mask), yet _somehow _she always knew. She always seemed to look at him and _know _who was staring back.

That is something that Jonathon can't figure out, something he dislikes _greatly._

Scarecrow calls to him them, creeping forward, his voice teasing and familiar. '_I think I handled that quite nicely, wouldn't you say so Jonathon?' _Jonathon knows what his, as he sometimes calls it, _other half _is getting at. While Scarecrow had taken Jonathon's body, he had kissed the Emma girl. He'd never done that to a victim before, not that Emma was _exactly _a victim.

_That_ was something that Jonathon hadn't quite decided on yet.

Scarecrow is there again, a voice in his mind that can no longer be suppressed. '_You're staring, Johnny. I _know _you liked it. You can't hide anything from me, from _yourself'.

He realizes that he _is _staring. Emma is half lying against the wall, her head lolling to the side and her mouth slightly parted. He cannot deny that kissing her was _slightly_ pleasant. He also cannot deny that the girl does interest him. '_Interests _us,' Scarecrow hisses. _'Ours, Johnny. How can she not interest us? We _created _her, after all'._

And that his precisely why Jonathon Crane is so fascinated with Emma Grant.

He cares not for her passably pretty face, as Hatter so evidently does. No, Jonathon never cared for outward appearance. What he cares about is Emma Grant's mind. She is quite possibly the sanest of the inmates, yet the toxin did something to her. Jonathon knows that his toxin clicked something into place in his own mind, released that little bit of sanity that he no longer needed. But with her...it did not drive her insane, but made her almost _saner, _more rational.

It made her overcome her fears and _use _them. Created something entirely new.

Jonathon appreciates the human mind, appreciates just _what _it can do. He needs to take Emma Grant, to examine her and talk to her about exactly what his toxin did, what _changed. _He needs to play the doctor once again.

'_You're going to take her out of an Asylum to be her shrink some other place? Jeez Johnny, of all the things you could do to her, you choose _that'.

Jonathon ignores the voice in his mind, instead clumsily yanks Emma up by her shoulder and quickly supports her by putting his arm under her own. She's shorter than him, which makes the lift easier, but not greatly so. He doesn't enjoy being so close to her, and for a moment, with her head lolling so close to his, he thinks about how Scarecrow forced himself onto her, and how, before he had injected her with the drug, she had kissed back.

'_Told you, you _did _like it. Maybe Jonathon Crane isn't as immune to women as he would like to think'._

'Be _quiet,' _Jonathon hisses, finally reaching the stairs that lead down the basement. He can already hear that Geraldine woman struggling to break free of the binds that tie her to the chair. It's useless, of course. He'd made sure the tape was very tight. Jonathon didn't _make _silly mistakes like letting a victim _go._

The mere thought of _finally _setting his toxin onto someone once again fills him with the kind of _anticipation _that he hadn't felt in quite some time. The kind of anticipation that people like Geraldine had denied him of. He wants her to see him drag Grant into the room, to see the hope leave her eyes and the fear set in. He wants to see her face when she first _inhales _the toxin and screams fill the air. If there is anything that Jonathon loves about his experiments, it's the _screams.__  
_

_'Why waste it on the old woman?' _Scarecrow says. '_When you have such a_ feisty _thing to test it on, latched onto your shoulder right now? Imagine _her _screams_, _Johnny'._

And Jonathon does. Alas, he can't quite pinpoint exactly how Emma Grant's screams of terror would sound, how they would seem like _music _to his ears. Finally, he pushes open the door with one shoulder, still dragging Emma at his side. While maneuvering her through the door, he accidentally bangs her shoulder on the door frame. _'That'll hurt,' _Scarecrow scoffs.

He'd made sure that Geraldine would be facing the door once he returned with Grant. The moment he enters the room, she shrieks at him, throwing insults of his madness that Jonathon had simply heard _too _many times before. 'Let her _go, _Crane,' she grits out, straining against her binds. 'You will _corrupt _her, you _monster'._

Jonathon obviously ignores her.

He dumps Emma on the floor next to a pipe, and after handcuffing her to said pipe, he stands before her in his suit and mussed hair, watching her chest rise and fall and head loll forward. 'Not yet,' he whispers, and Scarecrow listens. 'We don't want to waste what could be a _very_ enjoyable moment. It has to be _perfect'. _Scarecrow agrees silently, watchful with Crane as their eyes linger over Grant, Geraldine's words still drowned out by his own pondering. Grant is much stiller in sleep, barely twitching or shuffling, though that may be the drug induced slumber.

Scarecrow watches, and he _wants. _

Finally, he turns away and calmly approaches his brief case, where his toxins lay. He picks one up, ready for use, and Geraldine moans in realization of what is to come. His lips twitches a little at that. Scarecrow pushes his way forward a little, so that they can both enjoy this view as equals. Bowing his head, Jonathon pulls the burlap mask on over his head, the mask that has become the face of _Scarecrow_.

He waits a moment before looking up. Geraldine's head is bowed, her shoulders shaking. She cannot see his face, _Scarecrow -_ but she _will_. Grabbing her attention, he says,

'Tell me Doctor Geraldine, would you like to see my mask?'


	2. Chapter 2

**I couldn't resist posting another small chapter into this mini-story. It's very short, be warned.**

* * *

She was both agitating, yet mildly amusing.

It was like his own personal drug, seeing her mind crack like glass, as the realization that the toxin brought, seeped into her mind. And how_ glorious _her mind was. So many thoughts, so many ideas, so many feelings. Jonathan hadn't come across a mind like hers before - one so strong, yet one so _breakable. _

Seeing her scream wasn't quite as pleasing as he would have thought, though the Scarecrow within him longed for it, _fed _off of it. How _long _they had waited - but then she had stopped. From how she had described it, she had willed herself to stop screaming, because what was the _point? _Jonathan Crane had never encountered a 'patient' who retorted with such...logic.

But her fears - now _they_ were interesting. She feared her own failure, in a nutshell. Yet, she also feared what _others _would think of her failure. Obviously, fire had played a large part in her nightmares, but not in the way that Jonathan would have expected. It had, apparently, played the part of the people, and of her own imprisonment.

Interesting.

But now - _now _she had done something that annoyed him more than the screaming, that annoyed him more than her talking-back, more than her lies and unresponsiveness during his interviews with her.

She'd left him.

He'd come back, and she was gone. Scarecrow had _screamed _and _demanded _that Jonathan find her, that he _bring her back. _He wanted to, oh, _he wanted to. _But how? It was obvious that she had been taken. Her bag still lay at the foot of his - now hers, although he would sometimes lie stiffly beside her with a half awake mind - bed, and there had been an obvious kerfuffle in his office.

Then, there was the note, written unevenly on green, _lime_ paper. _BrINg heR bACk sOOn dOc - J & H. _Jonathan didn't understand why Joker insisted upon writing in such a manner. Basic, well written English didn't automatically make you less threatening.

He'd stood in the office for a while, note crumpled in his hand and his head bowed in anger. He didn't enjoy being angry, mind you. It made his mind uncomfortably uneven, and made it even harder to think _straight._

Joker would pay, he knew. Scarecrow knew too, and the idea of beating the clown made his insides settle. _She's ours, Jonathan. Annoying little thing that she is, she's still ours. Find her. Keep her._

And Jonathan was sure that this time, he _would_.


End file.
